


Take Me to Church

by SeaofSin



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Canon Jewish Character, F/M, Five Times, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Mentions of Character Death, Promises, Sibling Incest, mentions of judaism, psuedo weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 15:48:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5169503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeaofSin/pseuds/SeaofSin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Wanda and Pietro visited the church in the center of Sokovia.</p><p>Written for Day seven of Maxicest Week.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Me to Church

Somewhere in the center of town, beyond the forest of concrete walls and chain-link fences, was a place that Wanda and Pietro had come to know. Long ago, rumor had it, the elders who had founded this town had placed it purposefully there, to have everyone equally close to it, and to God. While neither of the Maximoff twins had been particularly religious, and certainly never Christian, the story stuck with them. Though the boundaries of Sokovia had come to change many times in the passing years, and the church was no longer in the center of the country, it still remained a symbol amongst the locals.

For the twins though, it had become far more than that.

It had been the first place they stayed the night after the dreadful event. Uncertain, cold, and hungry, they fled from the rubble of their home. Churches, it was said, would house the homeless on the odd occasion. Their synagogue had been destroyed many months prior, in the first wave of the bombings, and there was no use in trying to find another in this nearby vicinity. No one here prayed, not anymore. Belief in anything had been wiped clean from this city in the first wave of bombings.

But still, hoping against all odds, they prayed the famous church in the epicenter of town was still standing.

Luck would have it that it still stood, fenced off and partially in ruins, and evidently abandoned by its occupants with great haste. All that remained was the ornate seat in the center of the room, pieces of the wall broken from the explosions in the center of town. Still, it would be warm enough for the night.

Hunkering down, the twins shook in each other's arms, still processing what had happened to them in those past two days. It almost all felt surreal, as if they had been caught in some hellish nightmare together. Surely twins could share dreams, and this must be one. Only now, there would be no one to pinch them awake, no mother and father to cheerily turn the lights on to get them ready for school.

Mementos were stuffed into their pockets: an old, slightly charred picture in his pocket, and a necklace with their mother's ring looped over her neck. Those had been the only things they were able to recover. Rather than wallow in pity, they simply spoke, discussing their next move. What they needed was listed - a tent, water, canned foods - and plans were made. Winter was approaching soon, and it would be best to not be caught unaware.

That had been the first night of the rest of the only life they would know from then on.  
                                ---  
The second time they visited the church, they had been thirteen, and chased from the abandoned hotel they had been squatting in. A group of teenagers, armed at that, were unwilling to compromise with them, despite the fact that there would be more than enough room for both groups, and Pietro wasn't willing to argue the point, not when Wanda's life could have been at stake.

Wanda, on the other hand, was almost certain they could have convinced the teenagers. While it may have been debatable, Pietro refused to relent on his decision.

That night they had made their way back to the center of town, where they knew that the ensconced church would still be there behind the now heavy thicket of ivy and weeds that was growing over the fence. As the years of overgrowth was pushed to the side, the church as they knew it was revealed, its broken doors still open to them, willing to grant them sanctuary.  
                              ---  
The third time they visited the church, it was the night before they volunteered themselves to Strucker. Neither was quite certain what they had signed into, and certainly neither was willing to let themselves go without having their final piece said.

They had agreed that the church was the one place they felt was most appropriate to have it said.

Upon arrival, it had become clear just how well this place had managed to stand after its initial destruction. And while the years had not been kind to many places, this one still stood proud. The center was cracked from years, pebbles strewn about the raised platform in the center, but not decimated. The walls, while in a perpetual state of ruin, still held the same bearing it had when they had stumbled in that first night. The doors, while suffering from minor wood rot, still seemed sturdy, if not a bit worn.

Somehow, no matter how long this civil war has raged, this place still stood, as though it remained in its own plane of existence, its own time in history in a city constantly dragged forward by the far reaching tendrils of control across the sea. Here, in this place, was one of the last remaining sparks of old Sokovia, of what it had once been, before corrupt officials and war torn refugees became the norm. Here, the long standing testament to what had once been still stood, noble and proud.

In spite of every storm it had weathered, every destructive force sent to destroy it, it still stood, withstanding everything. As had they.

Awestruck, they observed the area, hands clasped tightly. Pietro was the first to break the silence. "It may not be our old synagogue, but I suppose it shall do."

Giving him a wry smile, Wanda turned towards him, fingers still laced together. "It shall do," she agreed.

This time, they had not come for shelter, their shelter would be a good measure away from here, curtained behind thick forests. No, this time, they had come with an entirely different notion in mind.

Here, they had felt safe, felt almost a connection to this country long lost to time and change. They would fight for Sokovia, for its people, for their family's spirits, and for this place.

And here, they would swear it to themselves.

It had been long known to them that their feelings towards one another had been far beyond that of normal sibling affection. It hasn't been for the longest of times. Like a dandelion in the concrete, it had grown; unwanted by many, but beautiful to them nonetheless. And now, here in this church, they were willing to finalize that love for one another.

They could never be married, law prohibited siblings from such things, but they could make vows to one another.

Procuring a stolen ring from his pocket, Pietro slipped it on her left ring finger. It was the most accepted symbol of love and marriage amongst the Westernized culture, and had become common practice in Sokovia. Reluctant as they were to adopt western standards, they knew no other way; their parents had passed before fully explaining the Roma culture to them. This was all they knew, and if it helped them seem married to the public eye, then so be it.

It was a promise, and that was what mattered more.

"I swear to you, I'll always be there. No matter how far, I will always come to you. I would run the expanse of the earth if you willed it so," he said softly, tucking an errant lock of hair behind her ear, "That is my vow to you. I will always protect you."

"And I swear to you that I'll be there for you. I would break the world to keep you safe, shatter it to pieces," she answered as her hands came to clasp his, keeping it against her cheek. Slowly shifting, she kissed his palm, "That is my vow to you."

Their vows were sealed with a kiss, as any other of this nature would be. That night, they had stayed there, though there was little sleeping to be had.  
                             ---  
The fourth time they had visited the church, it had still stood, though somewhat more dilapidated than memory had recalled.

A message had been delivered. The Iron-Man waited in the church. Mild terror had spread through the rest of those in the town square, but the Maximoff twins remained impassive. This had been the moment they had wanted. While Wanda may have allowed him to flee back at the citadel, (and with a very vague explanation to her brother accompanying her decision), there would be no such second chance.

The dog had made the mistake of returning to Sokovia. And to make the matter worse, he had stepped foot in the most cherished of places in their hearts. The Iron-Man would die at their feet.

What they had not expected was the towering metal behemoth of a man in his place. No human of any sort, and bearing promise of the Avengers' destruction.

The twins had found their new ally.  
                               ---  
The last time they had visited the church was their final stand. Things needed to be made right once more, and the twins shouldered their part of the blame. Ultron had to be destroyed. No matter how harsh humanity might have been, how unforgiving by their crimes could have been, nothing could warrant the entire destruction of the human race, even if it required them to work shoulder to shoulder with their sworn enemies. There would be time to bemoan their misgivings later, the pressing issue at hand was Ultron, and his wanton need for human extinction.

All that remained was to protect it from any stray Ultron bots, and prevent it from doing what it was designed to do, a burden Wanda had taken upon herself. As the others ushered out, Pietro stayed, eyes wide with fear. There was a certain twinge of sadness Wanda felt as she observed her surroundings. This would be the last of this place, of this church, of Sokovia as a whole... Pietro could feel it too, it emanated from his every racing thought, and clear as day on his face as he looked it over once more.

There would be time to mourn this place after. After, when everyone was safe.

"Get the people on the boats," Wanda instructed, calm as ever.

Pietro, however, refused to hear this. "I'm not going to leave you," he protested, shaking his head lightly, eyes fixed on her.

Before further protests could be made, Wanda extended a palm, shattered a rogue Ultron bot headed towards them before turning to her brother. "I can handle this. Come back for me when everyone else is off, not before."

He said nothing, instead looking mildly surprised as he headed for the door.

"You understand?" she asked, following him as she swiveled around in place.

"You know, I'm 12 minutes older than you," he retorted, amused as ever. Even in the darkest of moments, he was still Pietro, still her brother, willing to joke with her and play games.

She couldn't help but smile at that, laughing lightly as she instructed him, "Go."

What she hadn't expected, what she could have never foreseen, was that those would be her last words to him.

_Go._

Nothing hurt quite so much as the feeling when his mind cut from hers, knowing she had sent him to his death.

And as her brother fell dead, so did the church.


End file.
